Mysterious Mountain Man
Annette Broadrick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Epilogue

One

Betty Abbott paused in her efforts to polish the counter of the Dry Gulch Café. She leaned forward and narrowed her eyes, attempting to pierce the grime-coated window of the eating establishment. Something was moving out there, which was unusual in the desolate terrain that surrounded the small settlement. After concentrating for several moments, she made out a tiny swirl of dust at the foot of the Guadalupe Mountains.

Dropping the rag, she moved from behind the counter to get a better look.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?”

She glanced toward the serving window of the kitchen at Mel, her husband of forty-two years, before peering back outside. “I’m not sure.” She paused just inside the sagging screen door. “Thought I saw something movin’ out there.”

“You’re dreamin’, sweetheart. There’s nothin’ movin’ around this part of West Texas ‘cept maybe rattlesnakes and roadrunners.”

Betty couldn’t argue with him there. They were lucky to have a half-dozen customers a day during the winter months, mostly truckers passing through. An occasional motorist would stop for gas and might decide to eat, too.

The isolation never bothered her, because she was used to it. Both she and Mel had been born in the shadow of those mountains and most likely would die there, as well, which suited her just fine.

The moving cloud continued to grow larger until she recognized the spiraling tail of dust to be a vehicle driven at a high rate of speed over one of the area’s dirt roads.

Identifying the sight only whetted her curiosity. The only road in that direction led directly into the mountains. It was too early in the year for the ranger station to be opened. No one else was around those parts, except for—

She chuckled.

“Now what?”

She turned away from the screen door and with quickened steps that belied both age and weight, moved behind the counter once more.

“Looks like Jake’s decided to pay us a visit,” she said, tossing out the half pot of coffee that had been sitting for several hours on the burner. She began to make a new pot.

“Can’t be Jake, honey. He was just here a few weeks ago.”

“I don’t care if he was here yestiddy. There’s nobody around here that drives like a bat outta hell the way Jake does. You just wait ‘n’ see if that ain’t him.”

Mel pushed open the swinging door between the kitchen and the eating area and walked through. “You really think it’s him, huh?” He squinted through the window made opaque by the never-ending West Texas dust storms.

Betty didn’t look up from her task of pouring water into the coffeemaker. “Ya wanna bet?”

Mel shook his head. “Hell, no, woman. If I paid off all the bets you’ve won from me over the years, you’d be a rich woman.”

She paused long enough to flash him a saucy smile, holding the premeasured packet of coffee in one hand, a thin white filter in the other. “Keep your money, honey. I’m already rich with everything that really counts in life.”

Mel slipped his arm around her ample waist and hugged her. “That makes two of us.”

She finished the coffee preparations before turning in his arms and giving him a quick squeeze in return. “D’ya got any cinnamon rolls left? You know how Jake loves them things.”

“If it is Jake, then I’m gonna have to compliment him on his sensitive nose. I made a fresh batch this morning that should be coming out of the oven anytime now.”

Mel headed back to the kitchen, and Betty took up her vigil once more at the door of the café.

The dust cloud steadily increased in size until she could see the vehicle causing it. A battered pickup truck of some undetermined color moved across the horizon, growing larger in her view.

Yep, that’s Jake, she decided with an absent nod. I wonder what he’s doing back so soon? Who could ever figure out Jake Taggart? He was a law unto himself.

Betty remembered the night he was born. How could she forget? His mother, Mary Whitefeather Taggart, would always live in Betty’s memories as a sweet, gentle woman who’d never deserved the hard licks life had given her. She’d been abandoned by that no-account Johnny Taggart six months after he’d sweet-talked her into marrying him, pretending he wanted to settle down.

She’d believed him, fool that she was. He’d left her stranded in West Texas, pregnant and alone.

Betty and Mel had insisted she stay there with them, while she had insisted on working for her room and board. A person couldn’t help loving the quiet woman with the desolate black eyes, who hadn’t wanted to be any trouble to anybody.

She hadn’t told them she was in labor until too late to get her some medical attention. Betty’d had to help with the birthing. She and Mel had lost their only baby two years before, even though she’d gone to the hospital in El Paso. This time, Betty had vowed that she would help this new life into the world if God would show her what to do.

She would never forget those long hours, or Mel’s supportive presence in the background—his calm assurance that his wife could do anything she set her mind to, including deliver a baby out in the middle of nowhere.

Betty knew that God had kept His promise; otherwise, where would she have found the strength to have done all the necessary things to coax the angry young Jake into presenting himself? He’d entered the world with an attitude, bless his heart, with clenched fists and a strong will to beat the odds against him.

She couldn’t love him more than if he’d come from her own womb.

Betty watched the distant truck careen onto the highway without slowing down. The dust cloud began to dissipate now that there was nothing to fuel it. The truck moved rapidly toward them.

“Yep,” Mel muttered. “You were right.”

Why is Jake coming down from his place in the mountains so soon after his last visit? she wondered.

She glanced at the coffee to make sure it would be ready when he arrived, then turned back and watched Jake’s progress along the highway.

Jake drove like he did everything else he ever put his mind to—with a skill and careless elegance that drew the eye. Easily in command of the machine he drove, Jake pulled into the graveled parking area and slowed to a stop in the empty lot.

Betty stood in the doorway and watched as he opened the truck door and unfolded his long length. He pulled his battered Stetson low over his forehead so that it touched the rim of his aviator sunglasses. He wore a sheepskin-lined denim jacket that fit snugly across his broad shoulders, then tapered to his lean waist. When he reached back into the truck for his keys, his tight jeans revealed the long, muscular legs and taut buttocks of a runner. Well-worn hiking boots covered his feet as he sauntered across the parking lot toward the café.

Not for the first time Betty thought about the number of women who’d wanted to lasso and tie down the man walking toward her. Despite her age, she could understand very well their reaction to him. He seemed to bristle with energy even when his movements appeared slow and measured. There was an aliveness about him that caught the eye. He was a fine specimen of the human male animal in the prime of life.

She admired him as much as she loved him. He’d accepted the cards life had dealt him and had played them with a fierceness and determination that had never folded regardless of the stakes. And yet, there was something about him that remained a mystery. Jake Taggart was a very private man. She’d learned years ago not to question him about his decisions and choices, even when she didn’t understand them. Jake never let anyone get too close to him.

Betty waited until she saw his rare smile flash like a brilliant light in his sun-darkened face before she spoke.

“What happened? Did you forget somethin’ when you were down here last time?”

Jake stepped up onto the slanted porch that ran the length of the building. She pushed the door open for him and he took it with one hand while he pulled off his sunshades with the other. His black eyes danced with mischief.

“I couldn’t handle another day without seeing you, sweetheart. You’re downright irresistible and you know it.”

“I heard that,” Mel yelled from the kitchen. “You’d better watch how you flirt with my wife, fella. If you ain’t careful, I’ll have ta take ya behind the buildin’ and whup some sense inta ya.”

Jake’s smile flashed once more. “You and what army, pal?”

Their familiar ritual of greeting complete, the three people burst into laughter while Jake gave Betty a hug that lifted her off her feet and made her squeal. Once he released her she went over to pour him a cup of fresh coffee.

Jake pulled off his Stetson and sank down on one of the stools alongside the counter. Betty filled a thick ceramic mug with steaming liquid and set it in front of him. Mel came out of the kitchen and put a cinnamon roll, glistening with fresh glaze, in front of Jake.

Jake glanced around the small café that had been a part of his childhood, as though seeing it for the first time. He became conscious of the scarred tables and chairs, the linoleum whose design had been scrubbed and wiped off years ago and the worn countertop.

A couple of oil paintings hung on the back wall, mute evidence that Betty and Mel would never turn away anyone who was hungry, even if the person was broke. Those two scenes of El Capitan—the majestic peak of the Guadalupe range—and the surrounding desert area were their payment for feeding a fellow who had camped out for a few weeks in the vicinity many years ago.

“So what are you doin’ here?” Betty asked once again.

Jake pretended dismay. “You mean I’ve already worn out my welcome for the winter?” He took a huge bite of the roll and almost groaned out loud from the savory sensation.

She punched his arm. “You know better ‘n that. But you came down here for supplies just a while ago. We didn’t expect to see you again anytime soon.”

He took a sip of coffee, giving himself time to think about his answer. “I guess the truth is that I’m getting a little bored with my own company these days.”

Mel called from the kitchen. “Betty, don’t forget to give him the card that fella left here a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh, yeah. Good thing you reminded me. I’d done forgot all about that.” Betty walked over to the old-fashioned cash register and slid her fingers beneath it, coming out with a card. “Here you go. This guy showed up and was asking all kinds of questions about you...like where you lived and if you had a telephone or a fax or something. I told him that nobody knew where exactly you lived up in them mountains, not even the park rangers.”

She smiled when she said that, to remind Jake that she knew of his unauthorized use of land that had been claimed by the government as a national park area several years after he’d made his home there.

When he continued to eat the sweet roll without changing expression, she added, “He asked us to give you his card the next time we saw you.”

Jake took the card and immediately recognized the logo in the corner. The address was familiar as well. CPI Enterprises in Seattle, Washington. The name meant nothing to him; he’d never heard of a Woodrow Forrester. He must have been hired after Jake left the company. He placed the card on the counter and sipped his coffee without comment.

She waited for a few minutes, then said, “He insisted it was real important for him to get in touch with you as soon as possible. Like it was some kind of an emergency or something.”

Jake took another bite of the roll.

“Isn’t that the company where you used to work?”

He finished chewing and took a sip of coffee before replying. “That was a long time ago.”

She looked at him, puzzled. “Not so long, surely. You’ve been back about a year, haven’t you?”

“Thirteen months.”

She nodded her head in agreement. “That ain’t so long a time, when you think about it. You worked for that company how long?”

“Almost five years...but that’s all ancient history now.”

She lifted one eyebrow and tapped the card with a pudgy forefinger. “Well, young man, I’d say your history’s tryin’ to catch up with you.”

He stuck the card in his shirt pocket. “Only if I let it.” He took another bite of the savory roll. He’d never found a pastry anywhere to compare with Mel’s cinnamon rolls. They were worth the long trek out of the mountains.

He glanced up and realized that Betty was still standing on the other side of the counter, watching him. As soon as she made eye contact with him, she spoke.

“Whadduya s’pose this guy wants?”

“Who knows?” He wished she’d drop the subject, but he knew Betty too well to think she would.

“So. You goin’ to call ‘im?”

That took no conscious thought at all. “Nope.”

She crossed her arms and leaned her hip against the counter. “Just out of orneryness, I s’pose?”

Jake straightened, fighting to control his impatience. Betty knew nothing about his reasons for leaving the company. Only Brock Adams, the head of the company, knew. Once Jake left, he’d never discussed the matter with anyone.

Whoever this Forrester character represented in the company, Jake knew it wouldn’t be Brock Adams.

Betty was still eyeing him expectantly. “Look, Betty. It would be a waste of time for me to call this guy. I have nothing to say to him or anybody else in that company. I’m no longer a part of that world.” He glanced out the window and nodded toward the mountains. “That’s my life now. I’ve returned to my roots.”

“You know, Jake,” Betty said. “I suppose most people would probably believe ya, but I happen to remember how hard you worked all them years to get your education. I was there, remember? You took all kinds of part-time jobs, refusing to let me and Mel help ya, no matter how hard you had to struggle. You even got yourself some sports scholarships by playing your heart out, all so you could get the kind of education you needed to make it in the business world. I’m afraid you ain’t going to convince me that all that effort you went to meant nothing to you. I don’t care what you say.”

He supposed she had a point. Maybe he needed to look at things from a different perspective now that he’d had some time to himself. CPI Enterprises wasn’t the only company in the world, even if he’d spent his years there being groomed to succeed Brock Adams, thinking the company would be his life.

At the time he’d left, all he’d wanted was to leave the business world behind. He’d returned to the Guadalupes in search of some kind of inner peace, a way to live with the choices he’d made.

He’d ignored the park rangers and their petty governmental rules that said he could no longer have a home in the national park area. He’d actually made a game of circumventing them while he turned the shack he’d built up there as a kid into a habitable home.

Eventually he’d formed an uneasy but peaceful coexistence with them. He ignored them and they left him alone.

The months of hard physical labor had done him good. He’d come to terms with his life. He’d accepted the kinds of behavior he could live with and had set boundaries for those he couldn’t. The mountains had done their healing work on him. Maybe it was time for him to look at his options and consider what he wanted to do next.

One option he knew he’d never consider would be to return to Seattle and the life he’d once attempted to establish there.

Mel came out of the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. He studied Jake for a moment before he asked, “How ‘bout a game of dominoes?”

Jake nodded. “Sounds good.” He picked up his cup, stepped behind the counter for a refill, then followed Mel over to one of the tables in the back. He set the cup down and pulled off his coat, hanging it on a nearby hook before he sat down across from the older man.

Mel and Betty were the closest thing he had to family. He loved them with a deep-seated sense of loyalty and appreciation. But he still couldn’t talk to them about his life and the choices he’d made. He knew that they loved and accepted him, but they had trouble understanding him.

He wasn’t any good at trying to talk about his feelings. He never had been. He’d learned early on that if he was going to survive, he had to depend on himself. Nobody else. He’d never been one to talk about himself, about his goals in life. About his dreams.

After his mother had died, he’d been like a half-wild animal, snarling at everybody, resisting any authority. He hadn’t trusted many people in his life, that’s for sure. Mel and Betty, of course. Hell. They’d more than half raised him.

And Brock Adams. For whatever reason, he’d learned to trust and admire Brock Adams during the years they’d worked so closely together. He’d made an error in judgment, though, believing in Brock, believing he knew the kind of man Brock was. And he’d paid for the error. He’d left a well-paid job and a promising career without looking back or regretting the cost.

Payment enough in any man’s book.

So why in hell were they looking for him now, after all this time?

“You gonna play or just sit starin’ at the spots?” Mel asked, breaking into Jake’s thoughts.

Jake blinked, suddenly focusing on the dominoes in front of him for the first time in several minutes. “Sorry, guess my mind was wandering.”

“No need to be sorry. This ain’t brain surgery. You’re allowed to take all the time you want, but I’m going to have to get to work here directly,” Mel responded, glancing at the clock over the front door.

Jake studied the layout before him, then placed a domino along one line.

“Maybe I shoulda kept my mouth shut. Looks like you’re gonna beat me if I don’t do somethin’ mighty fast here.”

Jake scratched his chin. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, another sign of his abstraction. He’d been taking long hikes lately, now that he’d finished all the construction plans for his place. Sometimes he would end up camping out overnight if he was too far from the cabin when the winter dusk caught up with him.

“Gettin’ restless up there in them mountains, aren’t you?”

“A little,” Jake admitted.

“I could never figure out why you wanted to live up there all alone, anyway.”

Jake grinned. “I’m far from alone, Mel. There’s plenty of company. Most of the time I much prefer Mother Nature and her wildlife to people. At least the predators are easier to recognize.”

“Don’t you ever miss that job you had out in Seattle?”

Jake frowned. “Sometimes.”

“I can’t rightly remember what it was they made at that factory.”

“They manufactured various parts used in the building of airplanes, helicopters—whatever the aeronautical industry needed.”

“Do you suppose that guy that was here is wanting to offer you a job?”

“Wouldn’t matter if he was.”

Neither one of them spoke for a while. One game ended and they started another without a word. Occasionally Betty came over and refilled their coffee cups.

“You guys gettin’ hungry?” Betty finally asked.

Mel grunted. Jake glanced up. “I could probably eat a sandwich.”

The sound of tires on the gravel driveway outside announced that the tiny restaurant would soon have more business. Jake leaned back in his chair and watched a couple with two small children get out of a late-model minivan.

“Looks like your noon rush just arrived,” he drawled, grinning. Mel hurried to the kitchen while Betty reached for the stack of menus, a smile on her face for the children.

* * *

Rebecca Adams had been following the arrow-straight highway east out of El Paso for what seemed like hours, looking for the Dry Gulch Café. The desolate West Texas terrain had so mesmerized her with its sameness that she almost drove past the small settlement without noticing it. She was almost upon it before she noticed the sign advertising the café.

She peered at the cluster of weathered, gray buildings while hurriedly braking to make the turn. There were only two vehicles in the gravel parking lot—a minivan and a pickup truck.

Rebecca quickly glanced into the rearview mirror of her rental car, thankful there was no one to see that she hadn’t bothered to signal her intentions as she pulled off the highway. She parked neatly beside the angled truck and turned off the car engine.

She’d left Seattle early that morning and hadn’t paused in her travels since. Woody had told her that the only people he’d found who seemed to know anything about Jake Taggart were here at this café.

She took a deep breath and slowly released it. She was here now, ready to begin her search for the elusive Mr. Taggart. She’d made up her mind that nothing was going to stop her from finding Jake and talking to him, no matter what she had to do.

She quickly ran a comb through her dark, shoulder-length hair, powdered her nose and checked to make sure she still had on her lipstick. Her wide-set gray eyes stared back at her apprehensively from her compact mirror. She couldn’t remember when she’d ever been so nervous before, but then she’d never had to deal with such high stakes before. She couldn’t afford to lose this particular gamble.

She could think of any number of people she would have preferred to look for besides Jake Taggart. She’d never understood her father’s enthusiasm about the man. He may have been a genius at what he did for the company, but he’d been an impossible person to get to know.

She’d always taken pride in the fact that she could figure most people out. She’d made human behavior her main study, but Jake had always managed to elude her analysis.

As soon as she stepped out of the car, Rebecca paused to straighten her slim dark skirt and adjust the tailored matching jacket that stopped a few inches above the mid-thigh length of her skirt. She reached for her briefcase, which held her purse, and straightened, inwardly seeking the professional calm that carried her through her daily working routine.

The gravel made walking in heels difficult. She picked her way carefully across the dusty expanse. The last thing she needed was an injury of some sort out here in this godforsaken wilderness.

She was relieved to reach the smoother surface of the picturesque porch, which held a cluster of chairs—straight-backed and rockers—and a couple of tables. She glanced around her, perplexed by the evidence of her own eyes. Had Jake Taggart actually grown up in this area? In no way did it fit the image of the man she remembered.

The sagging screen door protested with a squeal when she pushed it open and stepped inside.

Her appearance seemed to have frozen the few occupants in the room into suspended animation. Every eye seemed to be trained on her. A casually dressed man and woman occupied a nearby booth with two small children. The little girl sat in a high chair at the end of the table, while the boy was perched on a booster seat beside his father.

All four stared at her as though she’d just stepped off a space ship and was there to make inquiries of the local inhabitants.

The woman behind the counter stood with a forgotten coffeepot in her hand, her eyes round as she stared at the newcomer.

Only the cowboy in the back seemed uninterested in her. He sat with his chair leaning against the wall, balanced on two legs, as though he had nothing better to do than to hang around a café all day. His thick black hair was worn too long, brushing his collar and tumbling across his forehead. He’d glanced at her when she’d first walked in, then he’d looked away as though unimpressed, while casually twirling a pair of sunglasses by one of the earpieces.

Rebecca gripped her briefcase tighter and approached the woman behind the counter.

“Good afternoon, miss,” the woman said before Rebecca could speak. “Are you here for lunch?”

Intent on her mission, Rebecca paused, feeling a little off-balance. For the first time in several hours she realized she hadn’t eaten since she’d left home. She took in the room in another sweeping glance before replying.

“I—uh—yes, actually, that would be nice.”

She was a little irritated with herself for not thinking about eating here. The woman must think her ridiculous to appear surprised to be offered a meal in a café. What, after all, had she expected? She certainly hadn’t walked into a lending library!

Rebecca noticed an empty booth in the back and had started toward it before she realized that she would be sitting near the cowboy. She certainly hoped he didn’t think she was trying to get his attention!

Taking another firm grip on her briefcase, she straightened her shoulders slightly and continued toward the back of the room without looking at anyone.

“Hello, Rebecca,” a deep voice drawled from somewhere close by.

She spun around, almost losing her balance. How could anyone here know who she—? Only one person could possibly recognize her. Her gaze darted around the room before she made eye contact with the cowboy, who continued to watch her without moving from his comfortable, laid-back position.

For the first time since she’d entered the café Rebecca really looked at the man leaning his chair against the wall.

“Jake,” she whispered almost to herself as she stared at him. Her breath seemed caught in her throat. Whatever her expectations had been for this trip, finding Jake within moments after her arrival had never crossed her mind.

He took his time looking at her, allowing his gaze to wander from the top of her head, lingering over the trim-fitting suit, before pausing on her now dusty pumps.

Eventually his gaze met her eyes. “What brings you to these parts?” he drawled. “Did you make a wrong turn somewhere?”

In the year since she’d last seen him, Rebecca had forgotten how his low voice had always caused her spine to tingle in a most unexpected and unprofessional way. The tingle was back, darn it, and they’d barely exchanged any words. She stood taller in an effort to combat her unwanted reaction to the man.

The waitress spoke from directly behind her. “You can sit anywhere, miss. Just pick a spot and light.”

Rebecca glanced around at the waitress just as she heard the other two legs on Jake’s chair hit the floor.

“She’ll take the back booth, Betty,” he said, straightening in slow motion to his full height. “Bring her Mel’s special. Let’s show the city lady what down-home cookin’s all about.”

Gently he touched Rebecca’s arm and guided her over to the booth. He didn’t take his eyes off her as she numbly slid onto the bench seat, staring at him as he sat down across from her.

This long-haired, unshaven cowboy was Jake Taggart? She could scarcely believe the evidence of her own eyes. What had happened to the man in the business suits and ties with the professionally styled hair and freshly laundered shirts?

Nothing about this meeting was going as she had planned. She hadn’t tried to guess how she’d find him or where a meeting between them would take place but this unexpected encounter had left her reeling. All of the remarks she’d carefully planned to say to him had left her mind.

While she was frantically searching for a light remark, Jake said, “Betty, I’d like you to meet Rebecca Adams. She works for CPI Enterprises in Seattle.” He glanced at Rebecca out of the corner of his eye before adding, “Besides being the head of the personnel department, she’s the boss’s daughter.”

He glanced back at her, no doubt waiting for her reaction to his remark. Since he wasn’t the first person through the years to imply that she held a responsible position in the company only because of her father, she chose not to comment.

She really didn’t care what Jake Taggart thought of her. She knew she was good at her job. She didn’t owe anyone any explanations or apologies for the position she held.

When she remained silent, he continued. “Betty and Mel own the restaurant. They serve the best food west of the Mississippi.”

Rebecca noticed the older woman—Betty had he called her?— blushed like a schoolgirl. But then, Jake seemed to have that effect on most women—even her, darn him—despite her determination to keep a professional distance between them. How could she have forgotten this man’s charisma? Hadn’t she once accused her father of being unduly influenced by Jake’s magnetism as well as his professional expertise?

“Pleased ta meet cha, Ms. Adams. What would you like to drink?”

“I think I’ll have—”

“They don’t have any of your herbal teas, ‘Becca, and the coffee is chock-full of caffeine,” Jake drawled, deliberately baiting her.

Ignoring him, she smiled at Betty and said, “Coffee sounds wonderful. Thank you.”

Betty hurried away, presumably for a cup since she was still holding the pot of coffee in her hand. Jake, meanwhile, turned sideways in the booth—his back resting against the wall, his elbow on the table, and his long legs stretched along the length of the bench seat.

Rebecca folded her hands together on the table and studied them in an effort to organize her thoughts.

“You never said what brings you to these parts, ‘Becca.” The slight tilt of his mouth revealed his awareness of her efforts at control.

She lifted her gaze to meet his. Thankfully, to her, her voice sounded steady when she replied, “That should be obvious, Jake. I came looking for you.”

Two

Jake studied her for a long moment. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but then, she never could. This man continued to be an enigma to her. Despite her working knowledge of human nature, she’d never been able to figure out what made Jake Taggart tick.

She knew she was at a disadvantage with him and that she would have to call on everything she had to convince him to do what she so desperately needed him to do. She’d come this far. She couldn’t blow it now.

She took a deep breath, prepared to make her pitch, when he said, “I’m downright flattered, ‘Becca.” There wasn’t an ounce of sincerity in his voice. “I’ll admit to being surprised to see you here.”

Now that she could believe despite the fact that he’d concealed his surprise well. She looked toward the dusty windows and beyond to the brightly lit sky. “West Texas is certainly different from Seattle, I must admit.” She turned back to face the man across from her. She’d always found him formidable. “Did anyone tell you that we’ve been trying to contact you?”

He opened his mouth as though to answer her, then paused, glancing past her shoulder. Betty arrived with a cup of coffee. She set it in front of Rebecca before turning to Jake. “You want some more coffee?”

“No, thanks. Water’s fine.”

Betty smiled at Rebecca, her eyes reflecting her curiosity. “So you came to see Jake, did ya?” she asked, making no attempt to hide her interest.

Rebecca was surprised. She wasn’t used to having a server make personal conversation. “I—uh—” She stopped, not knowing how to respond. She was out of her element and wasn’t certain what was called for here, according to proper etiquette.

“It’s all right,” Betty said, her voice filled with sympathetic understanding. “He’s used to women chasing after him.” She turned to Jake. “So. You expectin’ to hang around here overnight, or do you intend to git back home?”

Jake lazily stretched before replying. “Haven’t decided yet, Betty.”

“Well, we always keep your room ready for ya,” she said casually, before returning to the cash register where the other diners were waiting to pay for their meal.

Rebecca knew it was none of her business, but she asked, anyway. “Are you related to Betty?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

She nodded, more to herself than anything. “I wondered about that when I saw them listed in your personnel file. It was our only lead to your whereabouts.”

After straightening the knife, fork and spoon that Betty had placed in front of him, Jake picked up the spoon with his thumb and forefinger and began to flip it, tapping one end on the table, flipping it, then tapping the other end, as though he had nothing better to do than to make a repetitive noise no doubt designed to irritate her. She glanced at his long fingers, then away.

“Well, now you’ve found me. So what do you want?”

She took a sip of the coffee, her mind racing with questions and comments. She mentally replayed what Betty had said just now and surprised herself by verbalizing the least important question flitting through her mind.

“Is that true?” she asked.

“Is what true?”

“Are you used to women chasing after you?”

He twitched his shoulders and gave a quick shake of his head. “That was Betty’s way of pulling my leg.”

She dropped her gaze to the steaming liquid. She was stalling and she knew it, but she couldn’t seem to bring any order to her thoughts at the moment. To immediately find the man for whom she’d been prepared to make a diligent search had thrown her off her stride. She needed a moment to regroup and to marshal all her arguments.

“What do you want, Rebecca?” he repeated, impatiently. “Did Brock send you?”

She stiffened for a moment before answering him. “No.”

“I didn’t think so.” Tension filled the silence between them before he continued, his tone mocking. “As I recall, you never went out of your way to spend much time in my company when I worked at CPI, so it’s hard for me to guess what prompted this little visit.”

Rebecca lowered her cup, carefully replacing it on the table. He certainly wasn’t making this meeting an easy one. What, after all, had she expected? Before she could comment on his remark, he continued by saying, “You think I never noticed how studiously you managed to avoid me?” His mouth curled slightly. “I was aware I wasn’t your idea of a corporate executive. Well, don’t worry. After a few years I came to the same conclusion, myself. Guess I don’t have the necessary killer instinct.”

She controlled her surprise at this unexpected glimpse into the way his mind worked. “On the contrary, Jake. I thought you were an excellent executive. Since my father planned for you to take his place in the company, his views were obvious, as well.” She paused, searching for an explanation of something she’d never before attempted to put into words. “As for me, I’ll admit that I never went out of my way to get to know you, that’s true.” She forced herself to meet his dark-eyed gaze before saying, “I’m not particularly proud of the fact, but the truth is, for some time I was jealous of you.”

His eyes narrowed and he quirked one of his eyebrows at her, but he made no comment.

She shrugged. “Hopefully I’ve gotten over that rather adolescent reaction to the fact that my dad treated you like the son he never had.”

“And that bothered you?”

“It shouldn’t have, of course. There was no rational reason for me to see you as a threat. I never had any interest in learning to run the company. I much prefer working with the employees and leaving the rest of the business to the engineering and business majors. I never made any secret of my professional preferences.”

“But you aren’t talking about professional preferences now, are you?”

This wasn’t the topic she’d intended to discuss with him. Somehow, she’d lost control of their meeting before she’d had an opportunity to state her reasons for being there. He’d gotten a reaction from her. He was good at that—causing a reaction without giving anything of himself away.

She sighed and shook her head. “I’ve had the past year to look at my behavior, to recognize and face how childish I was acting by distancing myself from you.” She glanced away before forcing herself to meet his gaze. “However, you have to admit you’re not an easy man to get to know, even in the best of circumstances.”

“I had a job to do. I was never out to win any popularity contests...with you or anybody else.”

She couldn’t resist a quick look at the way he was dressed. He still wasn’t attempting to impress anyone. Not that it mattered to her what he looked like or how he treated her. However, it would make her mission much easier if they could find a common ground.

She needed his help, yet she resented having to ask for it. There’d been so many upheavals in her life lately, so much over which she had no control. She hated to ask anyone for anything. She’d grown up independent and self-reliant, traits her father admired, traits she’d continued to foster as she grew from the idolizing child to the adult who better understood her own motives.

Her studies of human behavior and her degrees in psychology had helped her to deal with many of those unresolved childhood issues. What they hadn’t taught her was how to deal with an attractive man whose dark gaze managed to affect her pulse rate despite her understanding of chemical attraction and the theory behind opposites attracting. She didn’t want to be attracted to this man. She wanted her interest in him to be strictly a professional one.

“I never understood why you left CPI,” she said, hoping to prod him into explaining more about who he was and what made him tick. Knowing his motives might also assist her in finding the most positive way to suggest he return to work for the company. “You were good at what you did. You had a bright future with the company.”

He picked up his glass of water and took a drink from it. After he set the glass down, he murmured, “My reasons for leaving don’t really matter after all this time.”

She straightened, placing her hands in her lap, hoping to downplay her nervousness. “Perhaps not,” she said carefully. “I suppose the more pertinent question to ask you is, what can I offer you to get you to return to CPI?”

He made a chopping motion with his hand. “Is that what this is all about—what you’re doing here? Do you think Brock is going to allow me to walk back into the company and take up my old position? You should have checked with him first before you came running to me with any offers. Brock Adams knows what I think of the policies and procedures in that company. He knows exactly why I left and why I won’t go back.”

“My father is dead, Jake.”

Her words hung between them as though taking on a life of their own, crowding the small space with sudden emotion.

Jake slowly straightened his slouching position. “Dead?” he repeated. “Brock?” His voice roughened. “When? What happened?”

She bit her lip in an effort to remain composed. Talking about her father’s death was still difficult. “Six months ago.” She paused and took a sip of water. “He died in his sleep. The doctor said it was his heart.”

Jake swung his legs off the seat and turned so that he was facing her. His face had been washed clean of expression. He stared at her blankly, his eyes unreadable.

“Was there any warning?”

“If there was, he never mentioned it. He began working longer hours after you left, rarely getting home before midnight. I tried to talk to him, tried to get him to rest, but he ignored me.” Her voice hardened. “If you hadn’t left the company, he might be alive today.”

Her words were as effective as a slap in the face...or a fist to his gut. Brock was dead. Only now, now that he’d learned that Brock was dead did he realize how he had viewed Brock Adams—as an Olympian figure, an immortal god who could not concern himself with the problems of mere mortals. Concerns about ethics and conscience and accountability hadn’t been as important as other considerations—growth, and returns, and happy stockholders.

Jake had been so angry when he’d left... angry, disgusted and frustrated. He hadn’t cared to listen to more of Brock’s explanations and rationalizations for his decisions. Jake had had enough.

Now Brock was dead and it was obvious from Rebecca’s determined efforts to contact him that the situation had not gotten any better since he’d left.

Now she wanted him to return to CPI. The idea was laughable. However, Jake didn’t feel much like laughing at the moment. After the shock of her news, he wasn’t certain what he was feeling.

Betty’s appearance with two platters of steaming food was a welcome respite from charged emotions.

The appetizing aroma caused Rebecca’s stomach to growl in anticipation.

Jake glanced at the plate in front of him, reminded of his earlier order. “This is a sandwich?”

Betty placed her hands on her hips. “Mel decided you might be hungrier than you thought.” She gave a sideways glance to Rebecca. “You’ve gotta keep up your strength, you know.”

He just shook his head and picked up his fork, knowing there was no winning an argument against the Abbotts. He glanced across the table. Rebecca must have been hungry. She wasn’t wasting any time on conversation, which was just as well. He needed some space to adjust to the information she’d given him.

He waited until she finished eating before he asked, “Who is running CPI these days?”

He watched her carefully blot her lips with the napkin. “As my father’s sole heir, I inherited his controlling interest in the company. I took over as chairman of the board, but at the moment there is no managing director.”

He remembered some of the sharks who were department heads and smiled. “I bet the place is experiencing a real feeding frenzy these days.”

Betty came and removed their plates, refilled Rebecca’s coffee cup and Jake’s water glass and left before she responded. She leaned her crossed arms on the table. “I always thought I was fairly competent at reading and understanding people, until I had all this dumped into my lap. I freely concede that I’m in way over my head at the moment. I don’t have the training, the ability or the personality to take over the helm and run the place, not the way you do. Obviously you can see why I’m here, why I wanted to talk to you, to explain what’s happening.”

“Ambition and greed aren’t difficult to identify, ‘Becca. You can find it in every business endeavor. Hell, it’s part of the human experience.”

“There’s more going on, Jake. Since Dad died we’ve had what I believe to be acts of sabotage taking place in the plant—shipments delayed, bills of lading misplaced, equipment breaking down. Somebody’s working hard to make us look bad. And it’s having the desired effect.”

“What do you think I could do about it?”

“My father had a great deal of confidence in you. He never told me why you left. In fact, he refused to discuss you with me at all, but I well remember how pleased he was earlier with the way you justified the decision he made to hire you. If you had a falling out with him then I think we need to look at the present picture without allowing the past to distort the situation. You are the only person who knows the business well enough to be able to step in and pull it through this crisis. The company needs you.”

Jake didn’t answer right away. Rebecca forced herself to remain quiet, hoping she’d said enough, hoping she hadn’t said too much to turn him off the idea. She was convinced that Jake Taggart was the only person who could help save the company.

When he finally spoke, she was shaken by his response. “I want no part of that life,” he said in a flat voice. “I’m content where I am.”

Rebecca couldn’t afford to accept his decision. She glanced around the room, which had fallen silent with the departure of the other diners. She could hear the couple who ran the place talking in the kitchen. Her gaze went to the grimy windows and, looking past them, to the desolate landscape.

In an effort to buy herself needed time to think of a different approach, she asked, “This is where you grew up?”

“That’s right.”

“It’s rather isolated, isn’t it?”

His small smile was lopsided. “Yep.”

“What is there here for you to do?”

The fact that he’d been asking himself the same question during the past few days didn’t endear her to him. “I don’t need much to survive.”

“My father used to say that you thrived on challenge.”

He nodded toward the window. “There’s challenge enough.”

“Is there?” She tilted her head slightly and looked at him. “Physically, I suppose there is. But mentally? Emotionally? What kind of challenges are you finding here?”

“What is this? A new form of job interview?”

She nodded. “That’s exactly what it is, Jake. CPI needs you and your talents. You must know that. Your leaving was a blow to the company as well as to my father, whether he ever admitted it or not. I don’t think either one fully recovered from your absence. If you’d been there, none of this would have happened. The transition after my dad’s death would have been orderly and without the turmoil we’ve been going through.”

“No one’s indispensable, ‘Becca.”

“True. But some positions are more easily filled than others.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the card he’d placed there earlier. He gave a flip to his wrist, and the card landed between them. “Who’s Woodrow Forrester?”

She didn’t need to read the card. “He’s in charge of accounting. Dad hired him not long after you left. He’s the one who pointed out the urgency of the situation we’re in. When I told him about you and what I felt you could do for us, he volunteered to come looking for you.”

Jake drummed his fingers on the table. Then he ran his fingers through his hair. “It wouldn’t work,” he finally muttered.

“Why not?”

He just shook his head, refusing to say anything more.

Her chest ached and she realized that she’d been holding her breath. She forced herself to fill her lungs with much-needed air, praying for inspiration. She’d counted on the fact that once he knew how serious the situation was, he would be willing to return.

Regardless of her personal reaction to him, she knew that Jake Taggart was exactly what the company needed.

“Is it because of me? I mean, what you said earlier about my appearing uncomfortable around you? Is it that you don’t want to work for me?”

“I’ve never given a thought about your opinion of me, one way or the other. As far as I was concerned, we both worked for the same company and had similar goals. We didn’t have to like each other.”

She glanced down at her clasped hands. “It isn’t that I dislike you, Jake,” she said slowly, searching for words that might make a difference to his decision. “I used to feel— That is, there were times when I felt as though you could read my mind, as though I had no secrets where you were concerned.” She gave a nervous chuckle. “Let’s face it. You can be rather intimidating at times.”

He didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he waited until she looked up at him before he said quietly, “You’ve got a very expressive face, ‘Becca. It isn’t difficult to tell what you’re thinking most of the time.”

She kept her gaze steady. “Then you must know how badly I need your help at the plant. I’ve tried these past few months to keep everything together. I’ve taken on more staff, mostly in personnel, to free me for other areas. I never wanted to be the one running things. My father understood that, which is why he trained you for the job. He’d intended to retire and—” Her voice broke and she couldn’t go on.

Jake looked around the small café, feeling uneasy about the turn in the conversation. He’d told her no, hadn’t he? He’d told her that he was happy where he was, but was he being completely honest with himself? Hadn’t CPI been his focus for several years?

Leaving the company had been one of the toughest things he’d ever done. He’d felt betrayed by Brock Adams and the choices the man had made despite Jake’s warnings. Jake had expected more from Brock than that. Hell, he’d looked up to Brock, admired him, wanted to be just like him...until the day Jake realized that his own integrity was more important to him than his ambition.

Rebecca’s voice broke into his thoughts. “I understand you live in those mountains.” She nodded toward the windows.

“That’s right.”

“Is it difficult to get to your home?”

He shrugged. “Depends on how you define difficult. You can’t drive all the way. There’s quite a hike once I leave the truck.”

“You like it there?”

“Yeah. It’s peaceful. I’ve always enjoyed the mountains.”

“Would you show me where you live?”

His grin was unexpected. He so rarely smiled...and she’d never heard him laugh in all the years she’d known him. She blinked in surprise at the change his smile made. He was much more approachable. And devastatingly attractive.

“I’m afraid you wouldn’t get far in that outfit.”

He hadn’t said no. “I brought other clothes with me,” she offered. “When Woody told me you lived in an isolated mountain area, I came prepared to look for you, no matter where you were.”

He hadn’t expected that, she could tell. She hurried on before he could speak. “If you’ll give me time to change my clothes, I’d very much like to see where you live. I also brought several reports that I’d like you to read. They can show you much better than anything I can say exactly what’s been happening to the company these past months.” She looked away for a moment before returning her gaze to him once more. “I would also like to have a chance to change your mind about coming back to work at CPI.”

“You think spending the night with me is going to convince me?”

She could feel her cheeks warm with color. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. You know me better than that, Jake.”

“What makes you say that? I don’t know you at all, ‘Becca.” He didn’t need to add that he had no intention of remedying the situation. It was in his tone of voice.

“Let me show you the reports before you turn me down, Jake. If nothing else, give me your thoughts on what could be done to protect us from what’s occurring in the plant. I freely admit that I don’t know where to turn or what else to do. Looking for you is my last, desperate attempt to hang on to the company.”

He scratched his chin thoughtfully. Her offer to go home with him intrigued him, damned if it didn’t. It was totally out of character for the woman he thought she was. But then, he’d been correct in saying he didn’t know her.

Brock Adams was dead and his company was up for grabs. Jake could just see what his sudden reappearance might do to a few people he recalled who spent their working days jockeying for more powerful positions in the company. The thought made him smile slightly.

Her gaze never left his face. When he realized how hopefully she was watching him, he said, “There’s a rest room through those doors—” he nodded his head toward an opening in the back wall “—where you can change clothes. Hope you brought some hiking boots.”

She needed no more urging. With quick strides she hurried to the door and out to the parking lot. He watched as she disappeared from view, then shook his head. He must be more lonesome than he thought to even consider the idea of taking Rebecca Adams up to his mountain retreat.

No one had ever been there before. He’d deliberately chosen a small meadow area that could be reached only through a narrow hidden canyon. Why, after all these years, was he willing to share it with another person?

And why her?

Once Rebecca returned from the car carrying a small bag, Jake pulled out his wallet and walked over to where Betty worked behind the counter. They both watched Rebecca go into the rest room before Betty looked back at Jake.

“Nice-looking woman.”

Jake placed a couple of bills on the counter. “I suppose.”

“Put that back in your wallet. You know your money’s no good here.”

“I thought we’d managed to get past that nonsense. Does that mean I’ve gotta keep stashing money around the place for you to find once you close? You know good and well I’m not going to let you feed me for nothing.”

Betty sighed. “You’re so blamed stubborn, you make a mule seem downright cooperative.”

He pulled on his coat and slipped his sunglasses over his eyes. “But you love me, anyway, and you know it.”

“Never said I didn’t. So what’s this lady doing here, did she say?”

“Guess she must have missed me,” he replied, grinning.

“She seems a little nervous.”

“You think so? I can’t imagine Ms. Adams has ever been less than completely composed.”

“Then you missed the fact that her hands were trembling the first time she picked up her cup of coffee.”

“She’s had a long day. Flew in from Seattle this morning.”

“She heading back now?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Uh-uh. I’m takin’ her home with me.”

During their conversation, Betty was wiping down the countertop, straightening each item along the way, but his last words caused her to jerk her head up.

“What did you say?” She stared at him with widened eyes.

“You heard me.”

She looked at him, looked at the rest room door, then back at him. “I heard you. I just don’t believe you.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Why would you take her up there?”

His smile couldn’t be more innocent. “Because she wants to see how I live.”

“A lotta folks have wanted to see how you live and where you live, and I ain’t seen you selling tickets for the privilege.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I’m getting bored. A little company might be nice for a change. Is it all right if we leave her rental car in the parking lot? I’ll bring her back tomorrow.”

Betty closed her mouth, suddenly realizing it had been hanging open since his announcement. “I would never have believed her the kind of woman to do such a thing.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Betty. She hasn’t sold herself into slavery. What are you thinking? That I’ll get her up there and take advantage of her? Hell, she isn’t even my type!”

Betty leaned her elbows on the counter in front of her and raised her eyebrows. “I was talking about the long hike you’ve always gone to great lengths to describe to me. What are you talking about?”

Jake reached for his hat—still lying where he’d put it when he’d arrived hours ago—and settled it on his head. He tugged the brim down so it rested just above his glasses.

“She thinks she can do it. I’m willing to let her try.”

They both turned when they heard the door open and watched her walk toward them, carrying her small bag. The businesswoman was gone. In her place was what looked to be a seasoned hiker, if her small boots were any indication. They’d seen plenty of use, as had the jeans that fit her so well. She wore an unzipped windbreaker over a bulky sweater.

“Sorry to take so long,” she said, pausing beside him and gazing up at his hat. “I don’t think I would have recognized you in your hat and sunshades.”

“Hell, ‘Becca, you didn’t recognize me without ‘em.”

She glanced at Betty and gave a small shrug. “That’s true. I didn’t. I’d only seen him in suits before today.”

“We’ll leave your car here and you’ll come with me in my truck. We better get a move on, so we don’t run out of light.” Jake opened the screen door and ushered Rebecca out. He glanced over at Betty and winked. “See you later.”

Betty walked over to the screen door and watched as Jake opened the passenger door of the truck and steadied Rebecca as she climbed inside. She heard Mel come out of the kitchen and walk up behind her. “Whaddaya think?” she asked as the truck headed back down the highway toward the mountains.

“I think our boy’s just met his match and don’t know it.”

She turned around and, laughing, hugged her man. “It’s gonna be fun watchin’ how it all turns out, though. Bet he’s not goin’ to know what hit him before all this is done.”

Mel gave her a smacking kiss and returned her hug. “Us poor men never do.”

Three

Jake glanced at Rebecca out of the corner of his eye once they were on the highway. She sat comfortably in his pickup truck, looking as regal as if she were in the back of a limousine.

He returned his attention to the road. The turnoff was unmarked, and he could easily miss it if he wasn’t paying attention.

He wasn’t certain what had prompted him to agree to Rebecca’s suggestion. Boredom maybe. Perhaps there was a hint of malice, as well. If she wasn’t willing to take his word for it that the trip to his place wasn’t for a city dweller, then he guessed she’d have to see for herself.

He’d never cared for Rebecca, although he’d kept his thoughts and feelings to himself. He’d been surprised when she’d admitted that he made her nervous. The truth was that he didn’t like the kind of woman he’d taken her to be—rich, spoiled and used to getting her own way. Now he was wondering if he’d been a little quick to stick a label on her.

Brock had thought his little darlin’ could do no wrong, and Jake had grown weary of hearing her virtues extolled. The only time Brock had hinted that he would like to see Rebecca and Jake as a couple Jake had quickly set Brock straight. He’d been hired to work in the company, not to participate in establishing a family dynasty.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.